


Said the Joker to the Thief

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [18]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truths come to light</p>
            </blockquote>





	Said the Joker to the Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately following the events of the episode No Place Like Home.
> 
> Written by Sadbhyl, beta'd by Mydeira

“Do you think they are related? Whatever’s attacking Mom and this Key thing?”

They sat at the reading table in the Magic Box, a notebook open in front of Giles, a first aid kit open in front of Buffy. The remnants of tea and triage were spread around them.

Buffy’s expression was intense, concerned, and Giles felt guilty that he couldn’t give her a more concrete answer. “I don’t believe so, unless you saw something in your vision that might indicate a connection?” She shook her head. “Well, there may yet be one you just weren’t able to see. You did a remarkable job getting what you did. Your powers of focus and concentration have come a long way in . . .”

“Giles!” She cut him off, irritated. “I don’t need the Slayer training pep talk. I need to know how to protect my family.” She hesitated. “Although technically one of them isn’t really related to me . . .”

“No, Buffy, you mustn’t think like that. For all intents and purposes, Dawn is your sister. For her safety as well as your own peace of mind, you shouldn’t treat her any differently than you ever have.”

“What about mom? I don’t think I should tell her, do you?”

“Until we discern what’s been attacking her, that would probably be the best idea for now. We shouldn’t tell the others, either.”

“Yeah. The more they know, the more danger they’ll be in. I’ve got enough people to worry about right now.”

Giles smiled sardonically. “Well, I’m glad you don’t include me in that group.”

She grinned. “Forget it, mister. You’re my Watcher. We’re in this together.”

He smiled, touched by her subtle acknowledgement of the bond they shared. “Then I had better get on this. Can you draw the sigil you saw on your mother’s forehead?”

“Not really. It was . . .” she paused, concentrating on the image in her mind. “I guess I saw it in too many dimensions, you know? If I tried to draw it, I could only use two, so I couldn’t show you all of it. It was like . . .” she thought for a moment, then held up her own hand as a model. “It was like one of those Indian hand things. With an eye in the palm? Only instead of being open,” she curled her fingers down, “it was a fist. The eye was still there, looking around, but it was inside the fist.”

He nodded his understanding. “Did it look like a real hand? Or more of a representation, like the hand of Fatima?”

“Real. But I couldn’t tell if it was a man’s or a woman’s hand.”

“Don’t worry about that. There may not have been any indicators of gender for you to see.” Giles adjusted his glasses, looking over his notes briefly before turning back to her. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest while I get started on this. Come by tomorrow after your classes and we can review anything I’ve found or anything else you remember from the meditation.”

“Thanks, Giles.” Buffy stood up gingerly, her bruised ribs sensitive. But as she slipped her arms into her coat sleeves, her expression became thoughtful. “I wonder how long she’s been here.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dawn. I mean, I can remember Mom and Dad bringing her home from the hospital. I remember her crying because I was old enough to ride a bike when she wasn’t. There isn’t a time I can think of when she wasn’t there. So when did those monks put her here? What of my memories are imaginary Dawn and what are real Dawn?”

He rose, removing his glasses to toy with them as he thought. “It could have been any time. A few weeks ago, a few months. She could have been here her whole life. We may never know. But don’t think about it too hard. That way lies madness.”

She shrugged, her face pensive. “Good night, Giles.”

“Good night, Buffy.”

The bell on the front door jingled as she went through, closing it behind her.

“June,” a familiar, rough voice said from behind him.

Giles turned, unsurprised to see Ethan leaning in the doorway back to the training room, hands in the pockets of his grey overcoat. “What about June?” he asked, casting his glasses onto the table.

“That’s when this Key thing arrived. In June. More specifically, while you and Joyce were enjoying your holiday in London.”

“And you know this how?”

“I felt it happen.” He slid comfortably into one of the chairs around the table.

“A disturbance in the force?” Giles sneered.

“No, you pillock, it ripped through the shields I’ve been building around Joyce’s house.”

That got his attention. “Strong?”

Ethan shrugged. “I’ve been shunting extra energy from our liaisons with Joyce into the wards around her house. Enough to make the place relatively impenetrable. Whatever came through wiped it away like cobwebs. I came back here before you both to try to find the source, but when I got here, there was nothing to find. The house was empty. I’ve been looking into it ever since.”

“Did you find anything?”

He shook his head. “Nothing concrete. Although word of this Beast is getting around. It’s not making anyone happy. But I suspect if I got a look at the simulacrum, I’d know now.”

“Dawn is not a simulacrum. She is a fourteen-year-old child. And Joyce’s daughter.”

“It’s not,” Ethan denied. “It is an ancient artifact of unfathomable power. If you were wise, you’d destroy it right now and prevent whatever this Beast is from getting a hold of it.”

“How dare . . .”

“Oh please, Ripper!” He rose up out of the chair to meet Giles face to face. “I have the memories, too, you know. I sold her a Raggedy Ann costume that first Halloween. She came into the shop with the Slayer and her friends. Wanted a warrior princess outfit, but big sister insisted on something more age appropriate. I imagine she spent most of the evening slumped in a doorway somewhere. I also remember having to sneak out of Joyce’s bedroom window in the middle of a very pleasant evening because the girl came home from a slumber party early. But now that I know what to look at, I can almost see the threads where they were sewn into the tapestry of my memories. And you should have been able to as well, if you hadn’t grown so complacent with your life here.”

“We don’t kill innocent children just because they might possibly be used for some evil purpose in the future.”

“You might not. I personally have no problem with . . .”

Giles seized him by the lapels, slamming him against the table. “You will not touch Dawn Summers. If anything happens to her, I will hold you personally responsible and return every injury in kind. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Ethan shrugged him off, adjusting his coat back into place. “But you will risk Joyce? Having that thing in the house will only make her a target.”

The fight flowed out of Giles at that, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly as he settled back into the chair he had vacated earlier. “Joyce has other concerns at the moment.”

Ethan tensed, his eyes narrowing to suspicious slits. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen her recently?”

“Not for several weeks. I’ve been busy trying to get a bead on this.” He sat down next to him. “Rupert, what is going . . .”

“Joyce is sick.” He couldn’t look in his partner’s face. “Migraines, fainting spells, nausea. The doctors haven’t been able to diagnose it yet. She has good and bad days, tries to keep her spirits up. But they aren’t going to find anything. Nothing that will help. That’s why Buffy was here tonight. She did the _tirer la couture_ . . .”

“That flighty thing? I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”

Giles ignored him. “She did the tirer la couture and saw a sigil on Joyce’s forehead. A closed fist with an eye in the palm . . .”

“Yes, I heard that part. You think it’s the mark of some sort of spell on her? Why not simply break the spell?”

“Because we don’t know what the spell is, and we don’t know who’s cast it. Until we find that out, we can’t do anything.”

Ethan’s face hardened. “That’s not like you, to sit idly by while you are being attacked.”

“I won’t be idle, I’ll be researching,” Giles slipped his glasses back on to begin sifting through the books on the table. “And until about ten minutes ago, I thought it was a natural illness. People _do_ get sick, you know.”

“Not our girl.”

Surprised, Giles looked up to see vulnerability in Ethan’s eyes he never could have imagined. For the first time since Giles had known him, Ethan was afraid for someone else.

Giles responded instinctively. “It will be alright, Ethan. We’ll make sure of it. We aren’t going to lose her.”

Ethan met his eyes, judging him. They shared a moment of quiet communion before he finally nodded. “What can I do?”

“Go see her. Buffy won’t be there, and Dawn should be asleep by now. She would . . .” he stopped, a pang of jealousy squeezing his heart. Joyce had made it plain they weren’t to compete over her, but still he felt the force of their decades long rivalry. He drove it aside, and with all the good grace he could muster, said, “It would make Joyce feel better if she could see you.”

Ethan seemed to realize how much effort that had cost him. “Thank you, Rupert,” he said softly as he rose to his feet. “I will. And if you need any assistance, call me.” He bent and scrawled a series of numbers across the top of Giles’ notebook. “My mobile number. I expect to hear from you. No one touches her . . .” He left the threat implied.

“No one,” Giles agreed. He turned back to his notes, but looked up again just as Ethan opened the door. “And Ethan? She needs Dawn right now. So leave the girl alone.”

He nodded. “That’s all you had to say, mate. She’s safe from me, at least. But I hope you’re prepared for the consequences, because they will all rest on your shoulders.”

Giles looked at him sadly before returning to his research. “They always do, mate. They always do.”


End file.
